


Strong and Sweet

by Galadriel1010



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-The Final Problem, Pre-Relationship, Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 06:07:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29238798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadriel1010/pseuds/Galadriel1010
Summary: Greg looks after Mycroft post-Sherrinford in the traditional English way. With tea.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 7
Kudos: 62
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	Strong and Sweet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



The cotton is soft with wear, the cheerfully ironic “I <3 London” worn away by tumbles through the washing machine. Lestrade – Greg – _Gregory_ smiles, a touch sheepish and rueful and amused all at once, and something buried deep in Mycroft wants to return it. “Becky got it for me,” he explains. “Christmas a couple of years back. Don’t tell her I wear it.”

Rebecca Alison Lestrade. 25 years old, a software tester in Chatham, single mother to Brendan (age 4), Gregory’s eldest child, only daughter. How would he tell her… Mycroft’s fingers tighten in the fabric. “Thank you,” he says falteringly.

He pulls it on and the warmth is immediate and welcome, for all that it’s skin-deep. The clothes are clean and dry, reassuringly lacking in pretentions. Grey jogging bottoms, plain black thermal jumper, thick socks with rubber grips on the soles. The easy-to-wear comfort accrued from years on the cold, wet streets of the capital. It doesn’t smell like Gregory, but it feels enough like him that Mycroft can almost imagine that it does. Warm clothes, warm tea, warm flat.

“You hungry?” Gregory asks. “You probably should be.”

Probably. There’s so much going on it’s hard to narrow down any one discomfort, but it’s easy enough to nod. “I could…”

“You can go and get yourself comfortable on the sofa. I’ll have something in.”

The sofa is appealing, but also not. Mycroft hesitates until Gregory gestures to a chair at the small kitchen table, and Mycroft takes the hint and the seat. He holds his ‘World’s Best Granddad’ mug against his chest in both hands, inhales the steam and takes a sip. It’s sweet and strong, rather like…

“Thank you,” he says instead of what he’s really thinking, “for all of this, for everything.”

Gregory huffs at him. It’s not quite a disapproving cluck, but the intent is clear. “S’alright. God knows you’ve looked after all of us enough. It’s about time you let someone else look after you.”

It’s an offer, an invitation, a plea, and for the first time in all these years Mycroft’s knee-jerk reaction is not ‘no’ but ‘not now’. Not like this, not when he is like this. He aches, physically and emotionally both, but he longs too. Gregory’s hand on his shoulder, warm and firm when he descended from the helicopter on Sherrinford and found Mycroft waiting, had been almost overwhelming on its own. The very thought of more than that, of any intimacy, is enough to consume him with longing.

Tossed in the tempest of two days that had ripped down every barrier he’d built, Mycroft was left shivering and exposed, defenceless until Gregory. The security at his house was shattered, so Gregory brought him to his own flat. His clothes were torn and filthy, so Gregory lent him his own. His emotional stability was rocked, so Gregory supported and steadied him. And still he offered more.

Mycroft drank his tea, strong and sweet, and realised he was smiling. Not yet, but yes.


End file.
